Lunch with the Girls

It's been a while. A while during which I missed two of my most favorite biking events.

I managed to catch a head cold—first time I've been sick since The Before Times—and it was a doozy. A scratchy throat that I'd chalked up to gasping for air on steep climbs was the harbinger.

If I took it easy, I figured I could manage a simple local route today, with a sandwich to sustain me. Though maybe I'd still need a nap when I got home ...

There was some aerial drama on the way: First, a crow harassing a red-tailed hawk; tables turned a mile or two later, with a mockingbird harassing a crow.

There's always something new to see, if you pay attention.

Pecking order is on full display at the ranch; the smallest hen wears a protective shield on her back because the bully who rules the roost keeps plucking out her feathers. Her neck is pretty bare, too.

The surprise for me was a doe, contently grazing next to the historic house and none too bothered by my presence. A regular visitor, I'm guessing, as a loud chorus of “Deer!” had rung out when I shared this site with dozens of excited schoolchildren on a field trip a few weeks ago. (She high-tailed it out of there, that day.)

Wild kingdom, right here on the suburban fringe of San José.

I Care Classic

This was definitely not your grandma's I Care Classic ...

I hadn't signed up for this ride since 2007, when I rode the 100-mile route. That was memorable for an epidemic of punctures (induced by goathead thorns). Biking along, the route heading into Gilroy was lined with cyclists fixing flats. At the next rest stop, I discovered that I had one, too. I remember one rider who abandoned, having flatted both tires (twice). Being buffeted by fast-moving semi trucks on Highway 25 was also unforgettable.

The designated routes have changed since then. The 100k route now incorporated two familiar, nasty-steep climbs; determined not to walk, my heart rate flirted with its maximum on the first one (Estates Drive, 15% grade), followed later by a stretch exceeding 12% on Mantelli Drive. I saw three people doing this route on ElliptiGOs; they told me they made it because they do have low gears.

Before 2007, I had done the metric route twice (2005, 2006). That route was ... friendlier. (Though I will say today's short climb up Roop Road felt like nothing after Estates Drive.)

When I reached the rest stop at Santa Teresa and Watsonville Roads, set up right at the (congested) intersection, I thought “You've got to be kidding me.” Traffic was backed up in all directions. It's a four-way stop, but impatient motorists don't necessarily wait their turn. I ran into a cyclist I know, and we had the same thought: the safest way to make the left turn was to walk the bike across the road.

A mile or so later, two cyclists flagged me down. They saw only a red arrow for the 100 mile route on the pavement. With the route on my device, and knowing the area, I was able to reassure them that we had not gone off course.

The day was heating up, and by the time I got to the last rest stop (also awkwardly placed, tucked around the corner at the Oak Glen intersection), I just wanted to be done. Having already taken my own pit stop at the Uvas Reservoir, I blew past. (I'd considered taking a short-cut up Willow Springs Road, but figured I'd cause a ruckus by going off-course past that rest stop.)

Thus, I finished with the expected 62 miles and some 2,400 feet of climbing. (As you've probably guessed, I won't be signing up for this event again.)

Wild Flowers

I had been meaning to catch up with a former colleague for the past few months; today was the day!

We settled on a hike, and I suggested Santa Teresa County Park for the likelihood of wildflowers. With an eye on the ominous sky, she had wisely donned a rain jacket. (Fortunately for me, it barely drizzled on us.)

On a weekday, I've become accustomed to having a park to myself. This was the first time I've shared a trail here with horseback riders!

We also passed some artists in the brush. [Pun intended.]

Some kindred spirit had left a sticky-note on the park map near the trailhead, designating where the blooms would be found (and, the intel was spot-on).

We had fun trying to match the flowers we saw to the park's brochure. Without clues to size or foliage, that was often quite challenging. Serpentine leptosiphon struck us as the most peculiar name.

Here's looking at you, Liz(ard)! I would have missed you, were it not for the keen eye of my hiking buddy. A California Alligator Lizard, methinks.

We found patches of Checkerbloom,

Owl's Clover,

and Tomcat Clover.

My hiking companion and I were well-matched today, because ... if you aren't into wildflowers, you will likely be frustrated hiking with me when the bloom is on!

We covered about 4 miles and something under 800 feet of elevation gain, with lots of good conversation, flower appreciation, and one more Pix in the Parks along the way!

The Workhorse

I'd been intending to take my classic old bike somewhere for maintenance; it was overdue. A flat tire (on the rear, of course) spurred me to take a closer look. That tire was ... done. And if I had been more attentive, I wouldn't have trashed the rear cassette by riding (how many miles?) with a worn-out chain. [I know better.] After 31 years of reliable riding, I really can't complain. (I had already worn out, and replaced, the shifters.)

This bike is a comfortable old friend, well-suited to casual rides. Though my days of bicycle commuting are behind me, I've nonetheless been racking up the miles on my trusty steed.

Too heavy to load into my car, I had pedaled it to a well-regarded family-owned shop for some TLC. A shop with a mechanic that would happily get it into shape, not frown and try to sell me a new bike.

Gone are the chronically misaligned, shrieking brake shoes. Also gone is the mismatched 8-speed rear shifter (it's a 7-speed cassette, but I guess that's all a previous mechanic had on hand when he replaced it).

This mechanic commented that the hubs had absolutely no grease in them. [Hubs are something of a mystery to me, and evidently had been ignored by all those who had serviced this machine, till now.]

Biking it back home seemed effortless. I hadn't had a sense that there was anything wrong about the ride, before; but there certainly was a difference now.

And I knew just where I wanted to stop for the glamour shots my old friend deserved!

Checking Out Chico

Road trips for cycling events are welcome opportunities to explore new areas. Given the popularity of the Chico Wildflower, I was surprised that the city was so far off the beaten track.

There was a two-day festival at the fairgrounds, with the opportunity to test-ride a variety of cycling contraptions.

And there were adventure-types launching spins and flips. [This one didn't land it.]

Thanks to a lucky meeting with a Bay Area friend on Saturday, we learned that there was a cycling-inspired exhibit at the Museum of Northern California Art—and we had just enough time to seek it out.

Most of the artists were local, like Stevi Mittman. “Silver Streaker” was eye-catching (though not rideable).

Karen Mason's whimsical prints, like “Family Out for the Day,” made me smile.

But the show-stopper for me was Katelyn Fitzgerald's “The History of the Bicycle,” a black-and-white piece composed entirely of the written word. Study it closely and you'd find a description of the history of the bicycle, the Tour de France, the lyrics to Queen's “Bicycle Race” (and more).

We settled on the Sierra Nevada taproom for dinner, along with a contingent of young people in formal attire (prom night).

Sunday (post ride), we stretched our legs on a stroll through the lower section of Bidwell Park. A couple of frenetic butterflies caught our eyes (Black Swallowtails, I believe).

We saw a few cyclists cooling off in the swimming area of Big Chico Creek (if only we'd known ...), and watched a couple of teens clinging and swinging with a log teetering on the edge of a low waterfall. Plenty of flow, especially given the warm weather (we were lucky that it was cooler on ride-day than Saturday, when we arrived).

We wrapped up with a visit to the Chico State campus. I was mindful not to photo-bomb any of the soon-to-be-graduates (and their families) posing for photos. One friendly group invited me to be in their picture when they realized I was politely staying out of the frame! (I declined.)

I was surprised to find so many brick buildings throughout town—an uncommon sight in California (land of earthquakes). Evidentky Trinity Hall has been standing for 90 years, so perhaps this region is less susceptible to shaking than much of the state.

We didn't manage to explore the downtown area. Maybe next time?

Biking to Paradise

There are many beloved cycling events in the region, and one that I'd never explored was the Chico Wildflower. [Until now.] When my cycling buddy agreed to join me, the adventure was on.

We chose the metric (100km) route, though it turned out this was not the optimal route for seeing wildflowers.

The route included a bike path early on (the Steve Harrsion Memorial Bike Path), and I was charmed by the “sprocket arch” as we rolled onto the trail. After capturing a photo of my cycling buddy passing under the arch at the far end, a bystander offered to get a picture for me in a re-enactment. He was serious about his picture-taking—lingering at that very spot for the ideal shot (lighting, shadows).

We're in Butte County ... and there you have it: a butte.

I remembered hearing that a historic covered bridge was lost when the Camp Fire rampaged through this area in late 2018. I never imagined that I would visit the site. As I cycled up Honey Run Road almost four and a half years later, I was surprised at the extent to which the landscape is recovering. But it is not as it was; exploring with Google Streetview, for example, you can compare footage from 2012 and 2021 in some places. A home tucked in the woods (2012); a bare slab in a field in 2021. I expected that we would pass through the burn zone on the way to Paradise; it was sobering to experience this twisty, narrow backroad—so ill-suited for a quick escape. Lives were lost on this road.

My photo of the creek was taken from the modern bridge that that was built years ago to carry traffic over Butte Creek, just north of where the historic bridge stood.

A passing cyclist helpfully called out “Lake Oroville” when I stopped to admire the lake (a reservoir with its own recent drama).

Spinning along at a comfortable pace, another passing cyclist said “nice cadence!” [Words said to me ... never. Until now.]

Heading back through the agricultural fields of the Central Valley, there were snow-capped peaks in the distance and puddles of yellow wildflowers nearby. There were also piles of trees that had been felled; scuttled, perhaps, due to our extended period of drought.

There was a towering plume of smoke to the south; assuredly a controlled burn, perhaps reducing some of those trees to ash?

On a happier note, there was a party at the finish. Of course, I'd chosen to wear a jersey featuring a wildflower (a giant California poppy), and enlisted a fellow cyclist to help me commemorate my ride: 63 miles, with more than 2,400 feet of climbing.

Lisa's Lookout

What a difference a weekend makes.

The last time I started a hike from Calero's San Vicente entrance, I had the place to myself. Today? The (large) parking lot was nearly filled ... with mountain bikers.

A friend was co-leading a short group hike, which I realized I could extend to develop a better perspective on the area. My last (short) hike was ... uninspiring.

She and I quickly fell behind, stopping frequently to admire the views and snap photos of wildflowers. We have biked past this area countless times and were amazed at the how beautiful it is from the other side (the park's interior). Especially now, while the hills are still green.

Shortly after the group turned back, an approaching mountain biker slowed to let me know there was a snake ahead, on the trail.

First things first: Is a rattlesnake? (No—it was a harmless Pacific gopher snake.) It was in no hurry to cross the trail, busily flicking its tongue and inching along. Another mountain biker thanked me when I signaled that he should stop, and we waited together for the critter to finish crossing.

Water was cascading into Calero Reservoir; having studied some maps, the source might have been the Almaden-Calero Canal.

The trail turned away from the water, and I soon found myself in grassland studded with trees and wildflowers.

One rocky slope boasted an array of California poppies and buttercup, along with Chia sage.

I paused to watch an Acorn woodpecker, high above me, tapping on a long-dead branch.

And of course I stopped to check out Lisa's Lookout. I imagine that an interpretive sign was once mounted on an adjacent (empty) post, likely to educate us about the trail's namesake (Lisa Killough, whose obituary mentions her role in acquiring this land for the park).

I knew this would be a long hike, and as the trail zigged and zagged I wondered if I'd somehow gone astray. How was it that I had a view of Mt. Umunhum? I shouldn't be headed in that direction. I was reassured, though, to see mountain bikers continuing to stream toward me; I knew they were following the same trail, but in the counter-clockwise direction.

Cattle grazed in a meadow carpeted with yellow blossoms ... surely I would see signs of civilization (i.e., the parking lot) soon?

At last! I took an unintentional shortcut at the end, squeezing through tight gaps next to locked gates. [Evidently not the only one to do so.] I'm pretty sure a trail marker pointed me in that direction. Beautiful birdsong rang out from a treetop: a Western Meadowlark (thanks, Merlin!).

I covered about 9 miles, with maybe 1,400 feet of climbing along the way. More than I expected, in so many ways.